


one of these days you're gonna get it right

by theelusiveflamingo



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, I don't know how else to tag this, M/M, Parent/Child Incest, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-15
Updated: 2014-06-15
Packaged: 2018-02-04 19:03:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1789822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theelusiveflamingo/pseuds/theelusiveflamingo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ramsay tries hard to get Roose a good Father's Day present, but Domeric has outdone him.  Again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	one of these days you're gonna get it right

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crookedneighbour](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedneighbour/gifts).



Ramsay burst into the house still air-drumming to the beat of the drum machine blasting in his headphones.  The air inside the Dreadfort was usually a little cool and clammy, but tonight it felt good to come into from the pouring rain outside.

He patted his jacket down for the thousandth time in the past twenty minutes, making sure everything was still there.  Father’s Day was an _important_ holiday, it was his _favorite._ He didn’t want to fuck it up.

“Hey Ramsay!”  Domeric burst into the hallway, a bright, stupid smile on his stupid _pretty_ face because he got to be _pretty_ because he wasn’t a bastard.  Bastards got ugly noses and limp, lank hair; he’d think _fuck you Dad, thanks a lot for all this_ , but he’d never think that about Dad, _never_.  “Wow, it’s still raining outside?  Can I get your jacket for you?”

“Fuck off,” Ramsay snapped.  “This has my Father’s Day present in it, get your hands off me.  _Off._ ”  He shoved Domeric, and then gave him a big smile.

Domeric snorted, rolling his eyes.  When Ramsay pushing him didn’t bother him, it meant he had something all suck-uppy up his sleeve, trying to prove he was Daddy’s favorite son.  “Thanks for coming on time to _my_ Father’s Day present.”

“Huh?”

“Just come on into the dining room,” Domeric said, turning and starting to walk down the creaky hallway.  “We’ve been waiting for you.”

Ramsay sighed.  The air around him did smell good, like some kind of beef stew.  Domeric had recently started to learn how to cook.  He let Ramsay help him once, but Ramsay had too much fun with the mixing bowl, stirring so fast its contents splattered all over the kitchen floor and Domeric’s face, and now he didn’t get to help out anymore.  _I’m not good at anything.  I can’t do anything right._

 _Except make Daddy happy_ , he thought, remembering to take his soaked boots off before walking through the rest of the Dreadfort.  _I’m so good at making Daddy happy.  Deep down, he knows I’m the best._

“You’re late,” Father said as Ramsay stepped into the dining room. The table was neatly set for two ( _two???_ ), with pink flowers spilling out of a vase in the middle.  It looked like something Walda would do, but Father had sent her and Ami on a week-long cruise to the Summer Isles, so it must have been _Domeric_ , that fucking suck-up.  There was a pot of beef stew steaming on the table, and further down, some of Father’s rope was neatly coiled up.

“I didn’t mean to be late, seriously,” Ramsay blurted out.  “I know it’s important to be on time.”

“That’s right,” said Father, his eyes staring at Ramsay’s jacket.

“I just wanted to get you….I wanted to…I wanted to make sure I got you a great present.”

“Oh?”

Ramsay reached into his jacket and pulled out a stack of slightly folded Father’s Day cards, scattering them on the table.  The drugstore’s card aisle had a lot less in stock after he’d left, that was for sure.  He’d even gotten some of the funny ones.  Father didn’t have much of a sense of humor, but you never know, right?

“What is _this_?”  Father’s eyes might have looked angry.  Domeric was snickering into his fist.

“They’re cards for you, Dad.  I think I got twenty, and I didn’t spend a cent.”  He grinned.  “Aren’t you proud of me?”

In response, Father reached behind him and pulled a card off the table.  It had a pink background, and raised gold letters that said “ _To a special Father_.”

“Domeric bought this with money he earned from his harp lessons with Mychel,” Father said.  “Meanwhile, you stole all of these.”

“Why do you give a shit if I paid for them or not?” Ramsay asked, his head spinning.  This didn’t make any sense.  Domeric _always, somehow…_ “Of all the things that you—we—” He pointed down towards the basement.  “You care about _this?_ You don’t even like your cards?  Do you like them?”

“Haven’t you learned anything from me?” Father sighed.  “I ought to send you back to that woman I raped.  _Don’t.  Be.  Conspicuous._   Boltons are _inconspicuous_.”

Domeric was moving towards the rope at the end of the table, picking it up.

“Get on your knees and get under the table, please.”

“ _No!_ What did I do?”  Ramsay didn’t understand.  “Didn’t you like the cards?  You didn’t even _look_ at them, Daddy, can’t you just—”

Father stepped close to Ramsay, his knife out.  He smelled so good, so clean, the way Father always smelled, and Ramsay trembled as he began to run the blade along his body, down slowly over his nipples, and then stopping just above his cock.  He wanted to be hard for Daddy, the hardest, harder than Domeric’s fancy blueblood cock, but he couldn’t get it up because he was confused and Daddy didn’t like the cards and why did this shit always happen?

“Get on your knees.”

And Ramsay dropped to his knees and crawled under the table.  Domeric was underneath the table with the rope, mouthing _sorry!_ as he began to tie Ramsay’s wrists to the table leg.

“Can I leech you at least?” Ramsay said.  “Maybe if you had a leeching you wouldn’t be pissed off at me.  I was just trying to—”

“Domeric helped me earlier,” came Daddy’s voice from above him.  “I feel quite calm.  Come, Domeric, let’s sit down to eat.  Your stew smells delicious.”

“What about Ramsay?” Domeric asked.  “Isn’t he going to be hungry?”

“Civilized humans do not _shoplift_ ,” Father said.  Ramsay stared at the view he got of him as he sat down to eat.  He was hard.  Domeric, across the table from him, was hard too.  It made Ramsay’s mouth water.  “If Ramsay wants to behave like he’s no better than an animal, then he’ll have to skip our dinner.”

“I’m hungry, Father, I’m _hungry!”_

Perhaps I should send him out to the kennels to sleep with the bitches.”

 “Dadd _yyyyyy_ ,” Ramsay whined, pulling at the ropes.  “I want some dinner, can I have some dinner _please_?”

“How have your lessons with Rhaegar been going, Domeric?” Father said, pointedly ignoring Ramsay.  Ramsay heard silverware clinking against bowls.  The stew smelled better than anything he’d ever smelled before.  “I ran into Mr. Targaryen this afternoon, and he mentioned that Rhaegar thinks you’re getting even better than he is.”

“I…well, I might be.”

“It’s making Mr. Targaryen _very_ upset.  Would you like some hippocras?”

_I always fuck up, I always fuck up, I just wanted to be a good son, but Domeric has to fuck it up cause he’s so perfect!_

Suddenly Domeric was slipping a spoonful of stew under the table.  Ramsay crawled over and slurped it up.  A bit of it got on his face, but he didn’t care.  It really was delicious.

He rubbed his face on Domeric’s thigh in gratitude.  Domeric whimpered, his cock clearly straining at the front of his tight pants, now.  Ramsay bit his thigh.  Domeric yelped.

“Come here.”  Now Father had a spoonful of stew for him.  Just before Ramsay could wrap his mouth around it, Father spilled the spoon all over the floor.

Without even thinking Ramsay went for it, licking up the stew, not even caring that he was on the floor like a dog.  Daddy wanted him to eat dinner.  Daddy still loved him.

“I thought you said…Can I feed him now?”  Ramsay thought he heard Domeric’s pants unzip, but he wasn’t sure.

“Yes, you may,” said Daddy.  “It _is_ Father’s Day, after all, and you two are the only sons I have.  We can save the lesson for another time.  Ramsay, open your mouth for your brother.  Be a good son.”

And Ramsay did.  Because Ramsay was, he _was._

 


End file.
